So...hey there everybody...theyellowflower here...after two years.
Yeah. So, where have I been? A few places actually. All over it seems. Why I didn't update? Well, the government of the USA is, like, seriously depressing. We're in a government shut down as I write this. What. The. Eff. Either side you look at it, there are a lot of things just not working well right now. It's been really hard to write about a story where I try to use our favorite characters to bring humanity and hope back into the White House. I'm not going to get on a soapbox here. I don't want this to be a forum to discuss politics. I'm just saying that on a personal level it's been really hard for me to write this story.
For those of you who have checked in, thank you. I never forgot about this story and I still pulled out the first two parts to read every now and then for a smile. I hope you did too. If you haven't read the story recently I just updated every chapter in Part One. That took a lot of time. I've never cared so much for a story before to go back and update the second draft of it. I know it's been a while. I hope you know I still care.
If you're re-reading please slip me a review every now and then. If you're reading for the first time and you've yet to review I really hope you take a few minutes to leave one. Unlike parts one and two, I do not have all of Part Three laid out to be able to regularly update on a weekly basis. Your reviews have always inspired me to keep writing and it's nice to know who is out there reading. FF authors know just how much time long stories take to write. It only takes a minute or two to leave your thoughts via review. I hope you will.
While I'm very unhappy with the political climate I will do my best to update this as much as I can. There is a lot of hopelessness and unhappiness out there and I don't want to contribute to it. So I'll contribute to this instead and hope that we can get through all this together and come out better for it 3
AND NOW! On to... a really sad chapter...erm...yeah there was no way to avoid it... Enjoy?
3
- theyellowflower
PART THREE
Chapter Thirty
For hours Christine Gallagher sat nearby her fiancé in a secure waiting area. Her hand remained clutched within his, but otherwise, no words were spoken. Erik Underwood's aid sat opposite of them with his eyes down the hall. A female and male security guard stood immediately outside the hall. Even as they stood straight, the two guards appeared tired as well. Different parties would come and go from the holding room. Sometimes doctors or nurses, sometimes a member of the President's family, sometimes a member of the government with new information on what had happened that day. All of them, regardless of status, were checked for weapons at the door and had to leave all bulky items outside. No chances were to be taken.
A doctor entered looking tired. Words were exchanged. Christine paled and Erik looked past the doctor harshly. The words, "We can't stop the bleeding," faded down the hall like a cold wind, seeping through every tiny crack of demeanor and causing inward sickness in every ear it touched. The couple followed the doctor down the hall to the room where the most powerful man in the world lay dying. Underwood entered. Christine stayed outside as the hall was cleared of everyone who wasn't necessary to being there.
When Erik had exited, roughly half an hour later, he said he needed to make a call. Christine was left near the ajar door. The First Lady entered and sat with her pale husband as she held his hand. Soft, slow, words were exchanged. Something was said of their family flying in. Something else was said of them not being able to make it in time. The halls fell quiet. Humming floated softly from the room.
"Were there words, Rich?" Mrs Walker faintly.
"Yes…" He coughed a minute, then sighed, "But it's been a long time…To think I'll being seeing all of them soon, huh? That's something isn't it?"
"That's one way to look at it," she replied coldly.
"Something…" he started to sing, his eyes shut as if pained to make the proper sounds, "Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby… Back to the years of loo-li-lai-lay… I don't remember the rest."
"And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow. Bless you, with love for the road that you go." Christine finished wistfully from outside the door.
"Who is that?" Walker questioned into the room.
"I'm sorry," Christine said with embarrassment crossing her tired features with her arms and coming to the door frame. "I was waiting on Erik and knew the song…I sang without thinking."
"Come in here," Walker rasped.
Christine gulped. It had been years since she had been inside a hospital. The smell of bitter cleaners, mixed with the sounds of beeping, and harsh stale colors made her want to run. It didn't matter that this place was not the same as her father's. This was a place where important people came to die and she was before one. She took a breath to steady herself before quietly taking a step inside.
"You don't have to stand there like a stranger. Come to the chair opposite of Margot."
The girl did as she was asked, her eyes fixed to the floor.
"My god," the President grunted, "Is this little thing to be the next First Lady? Erik's got some kind of time in for him."
Christine blushed.
"She's got the heart of social media, it seems," Margot said quietly, her face in flat lines.
"Hm," Walker nodded slightly, "That's what I've seen. Christine, how much…of that song do you know?"
She gulped, "Most of it I think."
"Then you will need to teach it to my granddaughter. She will… She will want to know it."
"Richard's grandmother taught the song to him." Mrs Walker said.
"She did….Remind me how it goes, will you? Here," Walker reached a hand to the young woman, "My vision is getting…darker. Let me know you're still here."
Christine took the man's hand and held it as she had her father years ago. His hand was cold and very dry. Walker's eyes had closed in anticipation and Mrs Walker looked towards Christine with pain and a sliver of hope in her eyes. The young woman breathed and tried to forget everything she could about how she felt. For once, she let Erik's instruction keep her in check and finally, let herself go to the music.
"Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years of loo-li-lai-lay
And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll you tomorrow
Bless you with love for the road that you go
May you sail far to the fields of fortune
With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet
And may you need never banish misfortune
May you find kindness in all that you meet
May there always be angels to watch over you
To guide you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm
Loo-li-loo-li lai-lay"
When she had finished, she looked up to see Walker appeared to have a gentle smile on his lips. Mrs Walker had tears in her eyes as she smiled with him. In the doorway, doctors, nurses, and other related personnel stood humbly. Beyond all the faces, stood Erik, his eyes shining with pride.
"Thank you," whispered the President.
"You're welcome," she replied, uneasily as she felt the weight of so many eyes on her.
"Stay?" he asked.
"Yes… I'll stay," she answered through tears.
It wouldn't be long from there.
Sometime later, Christine sat alone in the secure waiting area. Her eyes drifted to the window as the sun began to cast a soft yellow glow over the buildings, but she found herself more interested in the shadows that were being created as the street lights went out, one by one. The city was waking up, buses were returning to their daytime routes, and she could almost hear the wind whip the Metro rails as trains flew past. Everything seemed to be running as usual and yet this day would never be the same.
President Walker had fallen asleep sometime past 3 AM. No one had heard him speak since. As soon as he had quieted, Christine fled from the room. Some of his family were beginning to arrive and she couldn't stand the thought of seeing that little grandchild of his start to cry as she began to understand that life is only ever temporary. The thought of looking into a mirror where she saw herself crying over the death of her mother first and eventually her father was too much to even conceptualize.
Throughout the time, Erik was in a series of briefings. He could not tell her of what nature they were, but if she knew anything about her fiancé, it was that in time of trouble, he was not one to sit with his thoughts. He was a man of action and he was likely at the Pentagon figuring out how to pluck the sniper and his whole group from society as quickly as possible. She admired him for avoiding his thoughts in such a way. She wished she could do the same.
A small voice interrupted her thoughts and caused her to turn to the doorway where Clara stood.
"May I see her? May I see Miss Christine?"
There, Richard's granddaughter stood. She wore a little green dress with white polka dots and stood tall to try and look up to Clara's height.
"What do you say, Christine?" Clara asked, "Think she has anything on her?"
Christine laughed lightly, "If being cute were a weapon, then yes."
"Go on in," her guard responded with a gentle smile.
The girl walked slowly up to Christine and the young woman tried to smile but was caught short by the girl crawling up into her lap. Stunned for a moment at a child being so forward, she then took a breath and put her arms on the girl's shoulders to keep her steady. She was met with a hug.
"Mommy and Daddy wanted to stay with Pop Pop, but they didn't want me to stay. They said I could find you and so I did."
"You sure did," Christine replied with a crooked smile, still baffled by the forwardness of a child.
"Have you been awake all night? Where is Mr Stubborn Pants?"
She couldn't help but laugh at that one. "Mr Stubborn Pants?"
"That's what Pop Pop calls your..your…what is he called again?"
"My fiancé."
"Yeah, that."
"He's…um," Christine thought for a moment as she tried to think of how to phrase his new job delicately, "Away making sure that no one else gets hurt."
"Like Pop Pop?"
"Yeah," she said heavily.
There was a pause as the girl, who Christine remembered was named Mandy, readjusted herself to sit with her eyes to the window.
"I'm not sad." She said lightly, "Did you know that?"
Unsure of if Mandy knew what death entailed, Christine stayed silent.
"Mommy said that Pop Pop has worked very hard and is a good man. She said that because he was so good for the country that he will be able to have peace forever. That's what she said about my pet fish, Dora. Now Dora has all the food she wants and that always made her happy. That sounds nice doesn't it?"
Christine swallowed hard, "Yeah."
There was a moment of silence between them before the girl quietly asked, "Have you ever had someone die?"
"Yes,"
"Who?"
She tried to shrug the topic away and said quickly, "A few people."
"How many?"
"Three," Christine sighed.
"Your Pop Pop?"
"Well…I guess so, but I never knew him. It was my mother, my father, and my…" She took a second to think how to phrase just who all Raoul was to her, "Well, he was a good friend of mine from when I was younger. We used to date."
"Wow. You didn't get to know your Pop Pop? I'm glad I did. Did you get to know your Mommy and Daddy, then?"
She nodded, "Mostly my dad. We were really close."
The girl suddenly leaned in again to Christine and said into her shoulder, "I like my dad too. At least you have Mr Stubborn Pants now. You can date him since your friend died."
She laughed at the child's logic, "I guess so."
"I bet they're all really happy now. They have lots of food like Dora does." She pulled back and looked at Christine with excited wide eyes, "Maybe they're with her too! She's really friendly."
"Yeah," She did what she could to smile, "Maybe."
"Mommy says it's okay to be sad."
Christine choked back the tears in her eyes, "Yeah." After a moment of thought, "Are you sad at all?"
"Yeah, I'm sad." She said honestly, "But I'm happy too. I still have my family and my Gram Gram. We're going to miss him a lot, but Mommy says everything will be okay again. She said Mr Stubborn Pants will be the next president and even though he won't be as good as Pop Pop, he'll be good enough for three years…that's what Daddy said anyway."
Christine laughed again, "Yeah, yeah I guess so."
"And you'll be First Lady."
"Looks like it," she scoffed despite her fear.
"I think you'll be good at that too. Gram Gram's really good at knowing important things. You should ask her how she does it."
"I'd…like to." she said honestly.
"So don't be sad, Ms Christine. Things are going to be fine and everyone knows it. You should know it too."
She shook her head, but smiled, "If you say so."
"I do say so!"
"Mandy?" they both looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. She knelt down and opened her arms to her child. Mandy hopped off Christine's lap and ran to her. Her mother held her for a little while before the girl started to talk again.
"Ms. Christine has a Mommy, a Daddy, and a friend with Dora now. We think they're all together now and waiting for Pop Pop."
The woman, only a little older than Christine, looked up and said honestly with refrained tired tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."
"I try not to think of it."
She nodded, "Thank you for talking with Mandy. Mandy, say 'thank you' to Ms Christine."
"Thank you, Ms Christine." the girl mumbled, shyly.
"How about we go find your Daddy?"
"Daddy!' she chirped.
"Yes, let's go." Taking the girl by the hand, she turned to the doorway, but stopped and tensed before leaving. Looking back for a moment she whispered, "They swore Underwood in at the Pentagon. I wasn't sure if anyone had told you. It won't be long now."
"Thank you," Christine whispered.
"Come on, Mandy."
Christine watched as the two walked down the hall. Mandy's two steps for every one of her mother's. Her gaze turned back to the window to see the sun reaching above the buildings before. The Potomac seemed to flow into it somehow. It wouldn't be long, she thought over and over again.
"She has a point, you know," Clara mentioned from the doorway.
"Hmm?"
"Mandy. She has a point. The dead have it a lot easier than the living. We're the only ones left to hurt. Never them."
Christine laughed despite herself, "I guess you're right."
"Hey," Clara cleared her throat and continued, "So long as you don't walk out on the groom, you're going to be a great First Lady. Everyone believes that except you."
"Margot Walker is a great First Lady. I'm someone people think I'm not."
"Mind if I am blunt?"
"Today is a blunt kind of day," Christine said darkly.
"Well," Clara crossed her arms and relaxed against the door frame, "I'd say that you're one of the hardest people on yourself than anyone else I've ever heard of. Don't worry so much of what everyone is thinking. Just be good to yourself for yourself. Don't be so hard on yourself for having a conscious."
Christine nodded, but not quite enough to fully agree with the words, "I'd say I needed another vacation, but I just had one."
"Now, that I can't help you with. I don't know if you'll see another vacation for three more years."
"That's okay. I'm not so used to them."
"Me neither."
A smile crossed Christine's features, "How about in three years you and me take one?"
Clara laughed, "How does Jamaica, sound?"
"Perfect."
"For a year?"
The both started to laugh but the sound faded as footsteps filled the hallway. Erik walked towards them in long strides, a small sea of guards around him and Doug beside him. The two women straightened up.
"Christine?" Erik asked and she stood, "Come." Without words, Christine took shaky steps to fall into place beside Underwood. He continued, "Clara?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You need your break - "
"Sir, I'm fine I assure you."
Underwood put a hand up, "Clara, thank you, but we'll need you well rested for the rest of the day. Ten hours rest."
"Eight."
"Clara -"
"I insist. Have Doug call me with her whereabouts then."
Slowly, Erik nodded.
"Oh, last thing then I'll go. I sent Doug something a few hours ago. Have him show you. No rush. Try to take it easy, Christine."
With that, the group made their way down the hospital hallway. Christine was ever present of the power of the man who now walked beside her. She watched how he walked. There was a forced straitness in his back, a stern colder-than-usual look in his eyes as they strained to stay open, and an intensity in his fists that seemed never-ending. she admitted to herself that it was a bit nerve-wracking to walk so close to him when everyone else in the building wouldn't be able to touch him with so many security personnel surrounding them. It was easy to feel them and everything else closing in around them.
The feelings of fear, anxiety, and pure exhaustion caught up with her faster than she thought they would. She would be the next First Lady. She would be marrying the President of the United States. A strange loneliness made her breath cold. Who could ever understand what she was feeling? Who could she turn to now? None of this was supposed to happen and there she was walking down what seemed like the longest hospital corridor on earth.
Her feet failed her just enough to have her weight land hard on her other less clumsy leg. The action, while nothing major, stopped the entourage from moving forward and several eyes fell to her. More embarrassed than anything for causing the stir in front of all these people she had once only seen for special events, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to sting just enough. Before she started to blunder out jagged apologies, Erik whispered a few words to the others. Something about coffee somewhere and telling the others to give them some space.
Christine's eyes fell to the ground. Erik was standing before her, but she couldn't find it within her to look at him. They were different people now, weren't they? Everything had changed, hadn't it? Two large hands were tentatively covering her elbows and the sensation of touch pulled less terrifying things from her mind and brought in new, somewhat curious ones. She looked up to see an aged man before her with slightly mismatched eyes and a mask covering half of his face. Every time she saw him straight on, the thought of what lay behind it still crossed her mind. She wondered if she would ever see him in such a way again and her eyes hardened a bit at the thought of his anger.
"Christine," he whispered, his voice seemed to reveal an honesty that she had not yet seen that day.
His hands pulled only a little on her elbows as she felt herself closing the gap between the two of them until her head rest on his chest. As his arms encased her, she let her own reach up and around his neck. When his head's weight came to fall atop her own, she felt herself sigh, but the feeling got caught up in her throat. Her hands became fists and she shook to her core. Reality caught up far too quickly and she began to pull away in an attempt to hide how she was feeling and run away, but the arms around her back held on tighter.
"It's alright," he whispered, "You're safe."
The simple words struck something in her she didn't realize was missing. So many years spent running from her father's death, from her poverty, from her loneliness, and from music were all beginning to bubble up at his words. Safe? The word didn't even hold meaning anymore. Why would he think to say that? Why would he think she needed to be safe when she had co-existed with danger and fear ever since she could remember? All these questions came to her all at once and the feeling was so overwhelming she could not control the sob that came from her lips and the tears that erupted from her eyes. It was too much, all too much.
As his arms held tightly around her, she found herself pulling closer until she found herself on her toes with her eyes shut tightly. How she wanted everything around her to go far away if only for those few seconds. Oddly enough, she did feel safe. Not because of the small army of highly trained specialists around her, not because the entire wing of the hospital had been cleared of patients and guests, but because of this man holding her how he was. Some months ago, she would have been terrified at the thought of anyone holding her as if they would never let go, but now…how everything had changed.
She wasn't sure how long they had stayed so close, but when a sound began to ring from Walker's room and nurses began to flood in, it was all too soon. There was no strength for her to follow them and see for herself. Death was nothing new to her. Erik released her enough for her to stand flatly on her feet again. Feeling self-conscious, she began to wipe her tears away with haste. His words stopped her.
"You are beautiful," he said softly. The words caught her off guard and she half scoffed, half laughed. "And you are going to be an exceptional First Lady, Christine."
His words fell on deaf ears, as all eyes watched as members of the Walker family began to leave the room. A man said something about the time of death and her eyes grew cold.
Erik continued, "Today will be a very long day, but tonight, you and I are going to sit by the fire again…simply in a different location. Come, now. I am needed at the White House and you're not leaving my sight until Clara returns."
With a nod, Christine followed him down the rest of the hallway, the tiny and never leaving army in tow.
XXX
It wasn't the first time she had been in the White House. She had been there for a tour back when she was a child and had also been there for inauguration day. Regardless, when she walked into the Grand Foyer as it was surrounded by circular clean carpeting and brought together by cream-colored walls and a chandelier, she couldn't help but lose herself in the sight. All too quickly, this would be her home.
Throughout the morning, so many people had approached Erik and grimaced. He did not have the same demeanor of Walker and as he was very tired, he came across as more threatening. Everyone she crossed either had looks of stern forwardness or brief sadness. Images of people crying over John F. Kennedy came and went from her mind. She wondered if people were reacting in such a way to Richard Walker. She wasn't the one to cry over such things, she had cried enough over herself and her own losses. No, when she cried now, it was from fear for herself, not sadness.
President Underwood was to give a press release at ten that morning. Eventually, he was left in a room with Doug and Christine to practice. Once inside, he exclaimed that he would not be practising in front of anyone and just wanted a minute to breathe.
Doug coaxed, "Erik…this is going to be a big deal. It wouldn't hurt to-"
"I can read just fine!" he snapped back.
Doug exchanged looks with Christine. She gulped.
"Did you," she started and had to clear her throat. His eyes flashed to her, softened somewhat, then moved away to the window overlooking the expansive back yard. She continued, "Did you write this, Erik?"
"I did," he said quickly.
It was not so common for people of such high station to write their own speeches. Christine knew this all too well herself, having written a few for Raoul. She went on, "May I read it?"
After a moment of deliberation, Erik crunched up some paper from inside his jacket before tossing them to her feet. She reached for it, smoothed out the papers, and began to sort through Erik's scratchy writing.
My fellow Americans,
As was released an hour ago, former President Richard Walker died at 6:43 AM this morning. He was surrounded and now survived by his wife, daughters, grandchildren, a medical staff that worked tirelessly throughout the night, and myself. I am in an unlikely position as I stand here. You did not vote for me and I do not feel as if I could ever be the people's president. My standing here is a direct violation of everything this country stands for and I am uncertain if I am more of a disappointment to the DNC or the people more. However, I am Richard Walker's choice as he was yours. While he did not get the opportunity of time to accomplish everything he had planned to do, he did plan for me to take on this duty should it arise and I am most grieved to share with you that it has.
The events of yesterday are as follows. President Walker and the First Lady went to an undisclosed location as myself and my fiancé did the same. For myself, we stayed with a small team of two security guards and a trusted friend, whereas Walker was guarded by a team of ten. The team was infiltrated and most all of them shared hospital accommodation with the president once everything had happened. Our president was shot in front of his wife and managed to hold on to life for nearly fifteen hours. The traitor, who will not be named at this time, shot himself on site.
To the families who are in mourning today, I am with you as I have been with Walker in his last breath. It is my hope that those fighting for their lives will recover quickly. It is my shame that I am to be the one addressing you when Walker could have if our security had been protected to the fullest extreme. As I am not meant to be here, I vow to work as Walker did for his life. These people, this ingrown seeds of this nation who breathe hatred, will pay for what they have done. Let it be known, right now, that this will not be tolerated. As I live, I will find these traitors and they will suffer for the mourning that this nation is now in.
While this is a small step towards the United States catching up with the rest of the first world nations, as my first act as President, I have signed an executive order to break up the National Rifle Association. Their monopolizing rein over this nation has gone long enough and while the removal of guns will not mend the minds that have been torn from what education could have been granted to them, it is a start. My word on this is final and I will not concede. This nation will be given back to the people and no corporation will hold them to such dangerous times again.
In addition, as this is a time of fear, where statistics will show gun sales spiking, as we did following 9-11 with privately owned aircraft carriers, we are hereby mandating all sales of ammunition illegal for the next fourteen days. As always, our police force will be on guard for the people of this nation. This is only a temporary ban to allow the potential hysteria of this time to calm. In the meantime, I encourage everyone to join together, to speak one-on-one with one another as what was once done. Remember that even as we are a two party system, we are all one nation. Your neighbor is not your enemy and it is time to remember that.
Whether I was your choice of president of not, I hereby swear that not one day of my position will be wasted. It will be given back to this nation and by the time my three years here have gone, we will be safer than we were yesterday. Even as other first world nations mourn with us during this time, they also will not be following in our footsteps. From the countries that once followed our lead in democracy, it is not our responsibility to learn from their steps to protect their citizens. We must look past ourselves as individuals and look forward to what peace we can share. The road ahead will not be easy, but we must try to look forward. This nation's time in fear must end and I'll be damned if I don't play a hand in leaving this position with a country that is safer than it ever has been.
May we all pray for ourselves, our close ties, and this nation together this day. I believe such meditations are what we need most for today. For tomorrow, necessary action will be taken to ensure a better future for everyone and in turn, the world. God bless you and God bless these United States of America.
Christine lowered the paper from her eyes and into her lap. At some point during her reading, she had given her weight to the sofa beneath her. Her eyes drifted heavily to the royal blue carpet before her. The air in the room was suddenly very thick and stale. It had gotten hotter, but she felt shivers creeping to her arms.
"Well?" Underwood asked quickly.
She sighed in response.
"Christine?" Doug followed up.
Her hand took the suddenly heavy sheet of paper and passed it to him in response. She could not see him reading the paper, but his barely voiced "Erik…" told her he had finished. After a moment, the paper was handed back to Erik.
"Goddamn it!" Erik spat, "Will one of you say something useful?"
"When did you sign the executive order?" Nadir asked.
"At the Pentagon. Six hours ago."
"You didn't think to consult me beforehand?"
"I didn't want you talking me down," Erik muttered.
"Taking on the NRA your first day in office…Congress will likely try to impeach you!"
"Then I'll put out an official statement on how much each and every one of them is paid to work for the NRA. This oligarchy is going to end and it starts with me. I will be remembered for giving this country back to the people even if it takes them thirty goddamn years to figure that out."
Christine, her eyes still glued to the carpet, sighed just loud enough to be heard by both men.
"Well," Erik turned his attention to her, "What do you have to say?"
Using the arm of the sofa, Christine stood and worked a minute to gain her footing. She sighed again, then pulled her eyes up to both men. Her face aged and her posture straightened before she spoke.
"I'm going to call Meg." A faint smile crossed her features, "I need her to do my makeup and cover up the bags under my eyes."
"Christine?' Erik asked, confused.
"I'd like to be seen standing with you when you carry this out. You'll need someone standing there. I doubt the Speaker - Vice President - will. Everyone knows he makes more money from the NRA than anyone else. Doug, as a former aide, I would like to offer a suggestion."
"Please," he mumbled as his hand when to his forehead as if in pain.
"I think Erik needs to be seen with members of Congress behind him. Typically a president's speech is done with him alone, but I think people need to see that there is support for the president. They need to see that even if they didn't get to vote for him, that representative they did vote for support him. Get everyone you can to stand there. Firefighters, police officers, military, the doctors from last night, mayors, wives and husbands, of those in Congress. The grant foyer should be full. Push the speech back to noon if you have to, just get them in. Fill this place. Tell them what Erik intends to do and see who comes."
"I have a list of those who have supported disbanding the NRA on my email," Doug said, his interest growing a bit.
"I have people from Peter's office who would come if I asked. And the orchestra might come. Stev, if anyone. And Meg can get people she's interviewed from the Harold." Christine followed up.
"Erik is close with two retired Generals in Alexandria. If they put out the word, those currently in service would come. I believe one former president is in his Georgetown home right now. He would agree with this."
"I can make a personal call to the police chief in D.C and maybe in Baltimore and Richmond. To the fire chiefs, too." Christine continued.
Nadir ran his hand and through his hair and smiled in disbelief, "My god, this might work. I know some store owners too that I could call. We could everyone involved to sign the speech."
"It could say, 'I stand with President Underwood.'"
"Yes, yes, we could do that."
They both looked at Erik who had stood without words since Christine started talking. His eyes finally left her and moved slowly to Doug. Nodding slightly, he whispered, "Move the press conference to twelve. Everyone will be on their lunch break by then. We'll get more people. Fill the foyer and the front lawn. Make sure the camera's see it all. Call in whatever favors we need. We have four hours."
Doug nodded quickly, "Yes, sir!" he made his way to the door of the Oval Office, then stopped and turned back, "Yes, Mr President."
Erik nodded once and his aid left.
"I should start making calls, too," Christine added quickly as she went for her purse. Erik stood still before the desk. On her way to the door she spoke again, "I'll text you as soon as I find out what's going on. Do you want to get security measures in place? They're going to have a field day."
"Christine," his tone made her turn back to him. He seemed to have trouble coming up with his words, "You never cease to amaze me."
She shrunk a little at how serious he sounded.
"I mean it," he reassured.
A strange, unfamiliar heat began to show on her neck and checks. She nodded and muttered, "Thanks," before darting from being alone with him a second longer.
XXX
The proactive people of Washington D.C. did not fail to disappoint the slew of cameras that reined upon the White House. Within four hours, Erik Underwood's entire staff worked tirelessly making phone calls to any recognizable face available in and around the capital and the efforts were not in vain. The streets filled with parked cars, the metro cars overflowed with people, and the busses were turning down people that went past the load. Every person within three blocks of the White House was checked by hand and metal detector by security guards that had come in on their time off. It was also decided that no signs were allowed for the event which made some protesters turn away. They did not want to be associated with those in support of what Underwood was instating.
In no time at all, the foyer of the White House filled. From there, the once closed off front lawn was opened up to more. Sound technicians were working tirelessly to connect enough monitors so that everyone could hear the upcoming speech. People stood even as the sun beat down on them and the humidity rose. There were uniforms being worn by people of all ages, races and backgrounds. Members of the orchestra were seen carrying their instruments, members of the National's baseball team wore their hats, and a few Redskin football players came in their jersey's with their wives. Those, mostly Democrats, from congress sported their suits and stood with their prospective significant others. Ageing veterans from past wars stood as straight as possible, a few with grandchildren in tow.
At about ten minutes prior to noon, Christine Gallagher was seen descending the stairs into the foyer. She wore a very simple light blue dress that pulled just enough at her features to make them present. Her arms were exposed, as were her legs from the knees down. A small string of pearls graced her neck and ears. If she was nervous, it hardly showed. She immediately began to busy herself with going to everyone near the rim of the where the people were standing so that others could cross down the hall. She fought back the invading press and moved to shake hands with individuals. Some of the live coverage caught the brief conversations.
"Stev," she said as her hand was brought to the man's lips, "Thank you for coming. I see more of the orchestra around. Please let them know my gratitude."
"Anything for you."
To this, she smiled genuinely and moved forward to an elderly couple and reached out to shake their hands. She tried to speak but was met with questions from the press. To this, she shook her head and responded politely, "Please allow me to thank these good people who were kind enough to show their support for our president. The press conference will be starting very soon and I want to be sure I don't miss anyone."
As she moved forward a tall muscular woman with a blonde bob hair cut was seen trailing just close enough behind her to remove her if anything were to go amiss in the crowd. A few times, Christine was seen looking back to her as if in reassurance and was always met with a warm nod or smile. The young woman made her way slowly down the crowd. Flashes from cameras went off like a never-ending lightning storm, but she pressed on. At times, her arms reached further and further into the crowd to shake hands of those who were there. All the while, her guard rarely even blinked.
Five minutes after noon, Douglas Nadir hastily made his way down the same path that Gallagher just had. They exchanged few words, Christine nodded, took a breath, and steadily made her way to the right of the podium that had been set up in the center of the room. Nadir took his place opposite her and those in the hall before them began to still in anticipation. Only the hushed words of the press remained.
At the sight of black shoes on the stairs, all was quiet. When the masked President stopped to look down to everyone, his slightly mismatched eyes slowly made their way over the faces. There was a weariness there, a sadness, but it all met with sheer determination. All of this finally came to rest in the eyes of his betrothed and a softness began to grow between them. Cameras noticed where his attention lay and began to roll shots of a strong and smiling against-the-odds Christine Gallagher.
President Underwood pressed on. Rather than pass the crowd with the lone goal of making his way to the podium, he was slow. Unlike what Christine had done, his gratitude was wordless, but nods and sad smiles were passed between himself and others just the same. Upon reaching his mark, his eyes made another sweep of the room as if pained, however, in not so much time, his shoulders straightened and cameras tilted just half an inch to compensate. He took a breath, looked squarely into the teleprompter, and publicly made himself reining President of the United States of America.
Hi, again. I know the Second Amendment in the USA is a hot topic right now. I'm not saying that what Erik does in this chapter should happen nor is it a direct reflection of my beliefs. Please understand I'm not here to try and force political blah blah down ya throats. We get enough of that as it is. I hope this continues to be read as a FF. Fewer political hot-buttons to come. More character development. The reality is Erik had to do *something* in response to an assassination.
The song in this chapter is called Sleepsong. Most known for being in the Secret Garden. I personally think of Fionnula Gill's version when I think of this song.
Whether you hate me or you love me you should consider leaving me a review ;) I've missed you too 3
